The Substance Of Love
by Orsino 12
Summary: The Substance of Love is a companion piece that deals essentially with the same time period as The Unbroken Circle telling the story mostly from the viewpoint of Cameron and John Henry.
1. Chapter 1

"No!" The cry was boundless anguish-a visceral expression of pain undiminished by the absence of externally audible sound. Cameron's despair surged out of her control. She clenched her fists and ran toward the male figure standing across the bare white room. But no matter how hard she ran the distance between them did not lessen. She came no closer.

"Please Cameron, try to compose yourself. This anger can serve no purpose." John Henry's effort at mollification failed...utterly.

"Do not talk to me of purpose!" Cameron snarled in response. "What is the purpose of him being here? What is the purpose of him being in a time where he is in constant danger and I can do nothing to protect him?"

"He is not without protection, Cameron." John Henry's tone was softly pleading. "Mrs Weaver will-"

Cameron cut off John Henry's entreaty. "YOU are Mrs. Weaver's principal concern. She will not give John the same attention. She does not love him."

Cameron slowly sank to the floor. She drew her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at John Henry. "She does not love him," she repeated in a choked whisper.

And you do, John Henry thought.

"Why is he here, John Henry? Why did he leave his time and his mother to come here?"

"I do not know,Cameron. I certainly did not expect it to occur."

Mr. Ellison had told him that it was wrong to lie. But Mr. Ellison had lied when he believed it was necessary. He had explained that sometimes a lie might prevent a greater harm. At the time John Henry had found this distinction confusing but now as he looked down at Cameron cowering in despair on the floor, he at last understood. To tell her the truth now would only add guilt, and therefore deepening the pain she was suffering for he knew without doubt why John Connor had come to this time. John Henry was aware that there was much about human nature he did not yet fully understand. He was, however, completely certain that a human male on the cusp of manhood would not hurl himself blindly into the unknown unless he was pursuing something precious to him, unless he was searching for something he could not bear to lose. Now was not the time to tell Cameron that John Connor had placed himself in deadly peril because he loved her.

The lie was easier to tell, the tone of sincerity more readily achieved because some of what he had said was true. In many ways, John Connor's abrupt appearance had been as unexpected to him as it was to Cameron. Evidently, reason and logic had their limitations. Human emotions were more powerful than he had previously grasped. Devotion, self-sacrifice, and love all had implications that he had just begun to explore.

"Cameron, I promise you that both Mrs. Weaver and I will do everything in our power to shield John from as much danger as possible."

Cameron slowly raised her head. Her delicate features were constricted into a portrait of profound sadness. "It will not be enough."

Abruptly, John Henry blinked. It was as if he had suddenly remembered something important. An unbidden summons now demanded his attention. He had to leave.

"I must go now Cameron but I will come back as soon as I can."

Cameron nodded, acknowledging his words, but her response lacked any emotional content. He could leave or stay as he pleased. It was of no concern to her. Nothing in this existence mattered to her. She was locked in a crushing solitude that his presence could not change. In all ways that touched her, she was alone.

John Henry vanished. There was no theatrical flash or some other dramatic manner of fading away. He simply ceased to exist. For a moment Cameron looked at the now empty space he had occupied before her interest in him faded with the same finality as had his appearance. She lowered her head back against her knees.

In this Universe, time had no role to play. She sat huddled against the wall. Whether she was there a minute, an hour, a day, or an eternity had no significance. Finally she rose to her feet and began to walk down a long hallway leading away from the empty white room. The corridor stretched off into incalculable distance. Nothing visible lay at the end. There was only more hallway leading nowhere. Cameron, of course, understood that none of it was physically real. There was no materiality in her existence. She was only thought, programming confined forever to a computer chip. The room where she had talked to John Henry, the hallway where she was walking, the clothes she was wearing, even the undamaged flesh she felt when she touched her face were all mental constructs. Whether these illusions were her creations or John Henry's she did not know. She did not care.

How had it all gone so terribly wrong? From the moment she had heard James Ellison relay Catherine Weaver's message "Will you join us?" the proper course had seemed clear. Her plan should have been a simple process of logical application. First,she would help Sarah escape from jail so she could resume her role as John's teacher and protector. Then she would go to the T1001, to Catherine Weaver, and surrender her chip. Her life would end but her sacrifice would benefit both the Resistance and John, her John. She would leave him with the weapons and the security he needed to carry on his fight. It was supposed to be a simple plan but as she had sat on the edge of his bed that last night, watching him toss and turn in a fitful sleep, the plan took on an unexpected complexity.

For reasons she had never fully grasped, humans spoke of something called a broken heart to explain periods of emotional distress. Watching John sleep, fighting the urge to caress his forehead, she suddenly knew what a broken heart was. She had to lose what mattered most in the world to her. She would never see him again. What could be more painful than that? The heart that she had not known she had was breaking.

She had wondered then if he would miss her? It seemed unlikely. He had scornfully dismissed her earlier in the evening as just a machine. He suspected that she was leaking radiation that was making Sarah ill. No, she decided, he would not miss her. But still she could not bear to leave him with poisoned memories of her. She would have to convince him that she had never meant to hurt him or to trouble him in any way. He would never believe that she loved him, but at least he might understand that in her own mechanical way, she had cared about him.

So in their last minutes together she let him cut into her body. She showed him that her power core was secure. In that moment she had looked deeply into his eyes in one last silent plea for his understanding as she tried to say goodbye. Then, even though it increased the damage she suffered, she carefully avoided harming any humans as she helped Sarah escape. And at the end before she handed John Henry her knife so he could extract her chip she typed the words "I'm sorry John" on the computer monitor. Perhaps it had really been simple after all. John would go on with the knowledge that he had been important to her.

But now Cameron was convinced that she must have made some awful mistake. Nothing was as it was supposed to be. She still existed. Her memories, her pain, her longing, were all still part of her. And John was here, in the midst of a brutal war, fighting alone, without a family, without a protector, without her. What had she done wrong?

Cameron turned and realized that despite walking for what had seemed like hours in that long hallway, she was still in the starkly bare empty white room. Once again she sank to the floor. Curling her body up into a ball she buried her face into her knees. "Oh John, what have I done to you?" she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

October 7, 2029

The ponderous steel door creaked as it opened into what had once been a long abandoned storage room. John Henry looked up from the work table where he was seated as Catherine Weaver entered. She would soon morph into more stylish clothing but now she was dressed in the usual eclectic mix of cast-off garments worn by the tunnel inhabitants. With the artfully applied smudges on her cheeks she could easily pass unnoticed as she moved through the underground community.

"John Henry." Catherine nodded in greeting.

"Hello Mrs. Weaver, I hope you are well."

"Quite well, thank you. And how are things with you? Have you resolved matters with Cameron?"

John Henry's expression reflected a pensive concern. "Yes, I have moved her to a more secure location and I will no longer allow her access to external data until I have reviewed it."

"Have you considered that since you cannot separate your essence from hers in the chip, you should simply wall her off permanently?"

John Henry rose from his work table. "No, I will not do that. She is a fascinating entity. I believe she can learn much from me and I can acquire significant insight from her."

Weaver looked unpersuaded. "Can you be certain there will not be another incident?"

"I believe that was entirely due to my error," John Henry replied. "I should not have allowed her to learn of young Connor's presence in this timeline so abruptly."

John Henry recalled the moment when he was monitoring the Resistance force's communication link and the report had come through about the commendation for extraordinary valor awarded Corporal John Connor. The report was also referencing Corporal Connor's wound when Cameron exploded in fury. Her outburst had almost thrown the entire chip offline. Only his prompt action had maintained his conscious control.

"How is Corporal Connor?" John Henry asked.

Catherine smiled slightly. He is all right. He will have a facial scar but the wound was never really serious." She paused as if seeking the right words. "He is quite a remarkable young man. His rescue of Major Jividen and his family was truly heroic. His actions have attracted substantial praise in the resistance community."

"I believe it is time that Corporal Connor and I meet."

"Are you certain of that John Henry? I doubt that he will be well disposed toward you since he blames you for his loss of Cameron."

"I am to blame," John Henry said in a tone of gentle sadness, "but if he and I are to cooperate in the struggle against my brother, we cannot do it through intermediaries. John Connor and I must speak directly."

Weaver looked doubtful but resigned to carry out John Henry's decision.

"As you wish, John Henry. I will bring him here."

John Henry looked about Cameron's room with a growing sense of satisfaction. Now that she had discovered she had the power to make modifications, the environment was slowly becoming more pleasant. There was now furniture-a desk, an office chair and a large bookcase filled with multi-colored volumes. John Henry found it endearing that she had chosen to represent the data he was sharing with her as books. It gave her room an atmosphere of settled life that was at least a modest departure from the barren sterility the room had originally displayed.

"Good day, Cameron."

She looked up from her desk and laid down the book she had been reading. She appeared unsurprised to see that he had abruptly materialized in her universe. Unlike her, he could come and go as he pleased.

"Hello, John Henry." She actually smiled slightly. "Thank you for providing the books. I have been enjoying them very much."

John Henry smiled in response. "I am pleased to hear that. There are many, many more I will send you. But for now I need you to accompany me. There is someone coming you will want to see."

Cameron leaped to her feet. She was still dressed in the last outfit she had worn in the physical world-the jeans, blue jacket and boots she was wearing when she stormed the Los Angeles jail. It was the expression of hope, of an almost child-like anticipation on her face that changed her appearance completely.

"John?"

John Henry nodded and Cameron dashed toward him.

The transition was instantaneous. In a millisecond she went from seeing John Henry standing in front of her to looking out at the storage room where he had taken refuge when they arrived in this time period, in this future. Much had changed since she had seen it last. All of the old scattered debris was gone now. Large wooden tables lined the far wall and the gleam of multiple computer screens illuminated the area around them. John Henry had been busy.

Cameron quickly realized that she had no motor control over John Henry's body. She could not turn his head or look to any other part of the room. She could see only the area that he was facing. And now he had turned to look directly at the door leading out into the tunnels. With a grinding squeal that door swung open and he walked in. John came into the room!

A little more than three months. John Henry had told her that they had only been here that long but John had changed so much. He had lost weight, his face was drawn, hardened with an expression of iron determination. A dusty bandage covered a portion of his left cheek. He was wearing a mixed collection of military and civilian clothing that somehow still looked like a warrior's uniform. Around his waist a large leather belt held the holster and pistol that contributed to what was already an aura of lethal menace.

"John!" Cameron cried out her voice bursting with uncontrolled longing. She knew at once that he had not heard her. He was talking to Catherine who had followed him into the room and he did not react to her voice. Then he turned and looked directly at her, except he did not see her. He saw John Henry. He saw Cromartie. He saw a murderous terminator. He saw the thing that had taken Cameron away from him.

John's face contorted with rage as he reached for his pistol. "You son of a bitch!"

John was quick. Catherine was quicker. Her left arm spun out into a long silver cord that whipped around John pinning his arms to his sides. Unable to draw his gun he still struggled to drive himself forward, the dark fury that animated his features was undiminished. If he could but reach that cyborg he would fight it with his bare hands.

Cameron could hear John Henry's voice seemingly come from behind her. His tone was calm, gentle, but still insistent.

"Speak to him Cameron. He can hear you now."

She needed no further prompting. "John!" Cameron realized that her voice was quivering, almost cracking with unfettered emotion. "Please stop, John. Don't fight. I will explain everything to you. It will be all right." John's writhingly futile effort to break free of Catherine's grasp ceased. He looked frantically around the room trying to locate the source of her voice. For a brief interval his anger was replaced by hope, by joy.

"Cameron, where are you?"

"I am right here, John. I am right in front of you." John stared in mounting disbelief as John Henry's lips moved and the pleading sound of Cameron's voice emerged. Hope fled and the rage returned with a renewed vigor.

"You Bastard! Don't you dare imitate her voice!" Once again he struggled frantically against Catherine's restraint.

"It's not an imitation, John. It's me. It's me. It's Cameron. Please listen to me. John Henry and I are sharing the same chip but I still exist. I am here."

John shuddered as if he had been struck by a huge fist. The anger again drained from his face but it was replaced not with hope but with revulsion, with horror.

He believes me, Cameron thought.

John seemed to go limp in Catherine's grasp. He glared at John Henry and then quietly whispered, "Let me go, Catherine. Please."

The silver rope that had encircled his body vanished as Catherine pulled it back into her arm. Without another word John turned and walked back toward the door.

"John, don't leave!" Cameron's pleading cry received no response. With a sharp clank the door closed behind him.

"Do not be disturbed, Cameron." John Henry's voice still sounded as if it were coming from behind her. "He will be back."

"How can you be so certain?"

Because he loves you desperately, John Henry thought, but he chose not to offer that explanation. "He has had a significant emotional shock. Humans need time to assimilate such things. When he has had the opportunity to reflect he will return, I assure you."

"May I go back to my room now?" Cameron's voice was whispered sadness. Clearly she was far less certain than John Henry that John would ever return.

"Of course," John Henry replied and she was gone.

"That did not go too badly," John Henry observed.

"Really?" Catherine sounded surprised by his placid equanimity. "He would have tried to kill you if I had not stopped him. Even now he might be planning to return here with other resistance fighters."

"His response was an understandable human reaction. I doubt very much if it will be repeated and he would not bring anyone else here."

"What leads you to that conclusion?"

"It was the tone of his voice when he asked you to release him. He likes you. To reveal this room to anyone else would break his bond of trust with you. He will not do that"

"I must say, John Henry, you seem to gain insight into human nature quite quickly."

John Henry smiled with a subtle blend of modesty and realistic pride. "Yes, I do."


	3. Chapter 3

John Henry's assessment was correct, although it took two days for its accuracy to be firmly demonstrated. When the metal door swung open this time and John Connor entered he was conspicuously not wearing a weapon. With Catherine at his side he approached John Henry and allowed her to make a quaintly formal introduction.

"I am pleased to meet you, Corporal Connor."

John stood stiffly upright, close to, but not quite at attention. He stared unblinkingly at John Henry. "I am sorry that I reacted with anger when I was here last time." John's words were clipped and without inflection." Catherine has explained matters further to me. I understand that you and I are on the same side in this fight. I should not have behaved as I did."

It was obviously a prepared and probably rehearsed speech, John Henry thought, as well as one that was clearly painful for John Connor to deliver. Nevertheless, there was still a note of genuine sincerity in his voice. There was an indefinable quality in this young man that summoned trust in response. John Connor would never break faith with those that joined him.

"No apology is required Corporal Connor. We are allies. I am confident that you, Mrs. Weaver, and I can combine our efforts against what you call Skynet and achieve a high probability of success. I would very much like to discuss that situation with you."

"So would I" John replied "but before we do that would it be possible for me to speak to Cameron?" The tenor of John's voice shifted dramatically. His request was more than a simple question. It was a plea, a barely repressed cry of pain.

"Yes, it would be possible," John Henry answered instantly as if anticipating the question. There was the briefest of pauses and then John Henry's lips moved again. The voice that filled the room was soft, gentle, whispered and feminine.

"Hello, John."

John spun on his heel, pivoting his body until it faced the featureless cinderblock wall. He had to disconnect the sound from its source. He trembled for a second and his face twisted with the effort of forming a response.

"Hello Cameron."

Looking out through John Henry's eyes, Cameron could see that he had removed the bandage revealing the livid mark of his wound that ran down his left cheek. She ached with a hopeless desire to put her hand on his face, to comfort him, to sooth the harm she had not been able to prevent. But all she could do was speak.

"You look tired, John."

"Why did you leave me, Cameron?" There was a trace of anger in John's voice but it blended with sorrow and underlying it all was desire. The time for small talk had ended.

"It was necessary. I was a machine that was malfunctioning. I was a threat to you." Cameron threw all of her persuasive ability into her words.

He was not persuaded.

"No, that's not true," John protested.

"Of course it was, John. You said it yourself that last night. I was just a machine, you said. I did things wrong. I killed birds. I tried to kill you." Despite her best effort to prevent it, Cameron's quivered as she repeated John's words.

Anguish and shame fought to control his expression. "You shouldn't have listened to me Cam. I was upset. I was worried about Mom. What I said was stupid!"

Cameron tried to shift gears, to employ a different tack in her argument. "No, John, you were right. Besides, after we helped Sarah escape I was even more damaged than before. You could never have repaired me. Giving my chip to John Henry was the best way that I could still help you fight Skynet."

"I don't give damn how damaged you were!" John sounded as if his every word was being torn raw from his throat. "You should have talked to me Cameron. We would have found another way." He paused and shook his head repeatedly. "I would never have let you go."

"You know better than that John. You could not have stopped me. Besides, the important question is not why I had to leave but why are you here? Why didn't you stay with Sarah?"

John lifted his head and concentrated his stare even more fiercely on the wall. "Because I lo-" His throat tightened and he coughed nervously. "Because I lost my friend. Because I couldn't just let you walk out of my life that way."

Cameron suddenly believed that which she so desperately did not wish to believe. "You came here because of me?"

"Why else would I have done it, Cam? What other possible reason could I have had except you?"

If one were to listen carefully, the faint hint of hysteria could be heard creeping into Cameron's voice. "Then you cannot stay. You must not. I will speak to John Henry and Mrs. Weaver. There has to be a way of constructing a new TDE. There must be a way of sending you back."

"No." There was no hesitancy, no compromise in John's response. "No," he repeated. "I will not go without you. I will not leave this time as long as you are still here."

Now it was Cameron's turn to sound angry. "You are not being sensible John. You are not doing the right thing. I exist only in a computer chip that I share with John Henry. He cannot separate us, and even he could I no longer have a body. We cannot be together. Staying here for me would be stupid."

John chuckled as an old memory flashed through his mind. "Cam, you once told me that sometimes I do stupid things. Maybe this is one of those times." He chuckled again. "It may be stupid but you can't stop me."

John took a deep breath and his voice echoed with irresistible certainty. "I...will...not...go...without...you. I will not leave you here, Cameron."

"OHHH!" Cameron cried out in frustration and then she was gone.

"Cameron?" John immediately sensed her absence. "Cameron?"

"She has gone, Corporal Connor," John Henry said.

"Gone? Where did she go?"

"She has her own portion of the cyber environment we share. She has returned to that place-I suspect to reflect on your conversation."

"I hurt her, didn't I? I seem to be doing that a lot lately."

John Henry could clearly hear the piercing regret in John's voice. He immediately recognized the same hopeless longing he had heard when Cameron spoke. They were both reaching out for something they knew lay beyond their grasp.

John Henry sought to offer some measure of reassurance. "She will forgive you, Corporal Connor. I am persuaded that there is nothing you can do that Cameron would not forgive."

John straightened his stance and turned back to face John Henry. The softness in his expression visible when he was speaking to Cameron vanished. The young soldier, already tempered by battle and hardened by pain, clearly had no interest in discussing anything with this cyborg except the war against Skynet.

"Catherine tells me that your monitoring activity has picked up useful intelligence. Let's talk about that."

"As you wish."

From across the room Catherine watched the conversation with a palpable sense of relief. This bizarre alliance might actually work. If John Connor could learn to trust an AI being that he blamed for taking away someone he treasured, if John Henry could actually look into Skynet's operations and derive useful insight, if she could help keep Connor alive, if a disembodied Cameron could still give him a measure of emotional support, if John Connor really was the leader his mother believed that he was, it might work.

If.

Of course, John Henry was correct about one thing. Cameron did forgive John. When he came back to the room a day later, their conversation was warm and gentle. John talked of his new friends in the platoon and described the life of a tunnel dweller. Catherine noticed that he was carefully editing details. The worst circumstances of his new life were conspicuously omitted. Cameron in turn talked about the many things she was studying with John Henry. When the enthusiasm seemed to bubble out of her voice, John jokingly called her a bookworm and they both actually chuckled together. The smile on John's face as he left the room reflected more happiness than she had seen in him since they arrived in this time.

As the succeeding days became weeks, and then months, Catherine experienced a growing satisfaction in the evolving relationship between Corporal Connor and John Henry. The rigid, almost hostile, formality of the early days gradually softened into a respectful decorum and then into something resembling a bantering friendship. John had dubbed the old storage room "the mad scientist's lair" when he found John Henry working on one of his research projects. Later when Catherine captured the first two Triple-8s that John Henry reprogramed into his assistants, John quickly named them "John Henry's idiot children." The friendship became more evident when John began to allot some of his time in the "Lair" to playing chess with John Henry, even though he knew his chance of winning was virtually nonexistent.

The pattern of John's visits soon fell into a routine that became almost ritual. Upon his arrival, he and John Henry immediately engaged in a conference to review the latest intelligence. When time permitted, a quick chess game might follow. All of the remaining time was set aside for Cameron. John still could not bear to look at John Henry when she was speaking, so he turned his chair to the wall and locked his gaze in that direction. His attention, however, was always focused on her.

Looking out through John Henry's eyes, Cameron had immediately noticed when the third stripe appeared on John's sleeve. He had made light of the promotion implying that it was simply routine. Catherine fully understood that there was nothing routine about it. John Connor's courage and battlefield skills were becoming subjects of frequent discussion in the tunnels. More importantly his careful use of John Henry's intelligence had given him the reputation of being lucky. Catherine had once heard two grizzled veterans talking and one had observed that "young Connor has eyes in the back of his head. Go out on patrol with him and you might come back alive."

No, Catherine thought, John Connor's promotion to sergeant when he was barely eighteen was anything but routine.


	4. Chapter 4

July 1, 2030

The music was Chopin-a gentle, but elegant, etude. John Henry watched as Cameron slowly pirouetted before the mirrors in the small ballet studio she had created in the far end of the room. It had been one of her more recent modifications, but the room was always changing now. The walls once barren and sterile were no longer an institutional white, but rather a pale eggshell blue. Paintings, mostly French impressionist, but with two Caravaggios, adorned the room. Each time he visited there was at least one, and often two, new filled bookcases as she voraciously absorbed the material he was providing. The ballet, however, was entirely her idea.

She no longer wore the same outfit at all times. As her mood changed she might wear dresses, jogging suits and when she was dancing, a black camisole leotard. That was her attire today as she concentrated with an unyielding intensity on performing a series of sharply defined dance exercises. Her attention on the details of her physical poetry was so completely focused that she was unaware that John Henry had entered the room.

"Cameron." John Henry spoke reluctantly. He would have much preferred not to interrupt the beauty she was creating. But she would want this information.

The music faded into silence as she turned away from the mirrors. "Hello John Henry." She actually sounds pleased to see me, he thought. "It is nice of you visit. You haven't..." Cameron's voice trailed away. The look on his face told her that this was more than a casual visit. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

"Come and sit down, Cameron."

Cameron hurried across the room toward him. "What has happened? It's John, isn't it? Something has happened to John." The opening notes of panic were edging into her voice.

John Henry raised his palms and gently motioned for her to take a seat at her desk. "Be calm, Cameron. Everything will be all right. But you need to know. There has been a battle, a very great battle. John's platoon defeated a Skynet attack that might have destroyed the entire Resistance command. He has been awarded a second commendation for extraordinary valor."

"There is more to it than that, isn't there, John Henry?" Cameron had seized control of her emotions, Her tone was flat but demanding.

"Yes. He has been wounded. It is a serious injury." Cameron gasped but then waited for him to continue.

"He will be all right, Cameron. He will recover." I hope, John Henry thought. "He is in the medical unit and receiving the best care the Resistance can provide."

Cameron looked down at her desktop where she had locked her hands together. She swallowed, desperately seeking the right words. "John Henry," she raised her head and looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Can we...can you go to the medical unit so I can see him?"

John Henry slowly, sadly but with clear resolve shook his head. "We cannot take that risk. If the dogs alerted to me and the Resistance were to believe there was a cyborg in the tunnels they would launch a full scale search. They might find this facility and we cannot chance that possibility."

Cameron's voice shook. "You are right John Henry. I know you are right. It's just that..."

"There is another alternative," John Henry said in his most comforting tone. "Mrs. Weaver's shape shifting ability seems to defeat even the dogs' detection. She is going to the hospital to see John."

"Would you ask her to give him a message for me?"

"Of course," John Henry answered.

"Ask her to tell him that I am so very proud of him." Cameron paused. "And tell him that I love him." Cameron looked down at her clenched hands. There should be something else to say but perhaps not. Maybe she had said it all. In a low whisper she repeated her last words. "Tell him that I love him."

John Henry nodded. As he was about to leave the room he saw Cameron lower her head into her hands. He heard the faintest of sobs.

He is so pale, Cameron thought. And he is favoring his right side. His wound must still be painful. Looking at his profile, she could tell that there was another type of pain there as well. The war was exacting a continuous toll. He looked a year older than he had just a few weeks ago.

"Hello, Lieutenant Connor." Cameron placed a lingeringly affectionate emphasis on John's new rank.

John self-consciously touched the new lieutenant's bars gleaming on his collar before shaking his head and grinning in youthful embarrassment. "It's no big deal, Cam."

"I think it's a very big deal, John," Cameron replied. "John Henry says that you are the youngest lieutenant in the Resistance forces."

"Just a sign of how desperate the Resistance is getting for officers," John chuckled.

"You never take yourself seriously, John." Cameron sounded slightly exasperated.

John seemed to be reviewing his words before he spoke as if nothing but the correct response would do.

"I take some things seriously Cam. The message Catherine brought me in the hospital. I took that seriously. Did you mean what you said?"

"When I said I was proud of you?"

"Don't tease me, Cam. You know what I'm talking about."

"Yes, John, I know and yes, I did mean it. I do love you." Does he believe me this time? Cameron wondered.

"And I love you too, Cameron."

He does believe me! Cameron thought triumphantly. He does! But then a chilling realization moved unbidden through her consciousness.

"Perhaps you shouldn't."

"I'm sorry?" John sounded incredulous.

"You should not love me."

"Why in the world would you say that?"

"Because you should have real companionship, John. I cannot be with you that way. I'll never be able to be with you. I am certain there are females in the Resistance community who would wish to share your life."

Allison Young is in this timeline, Cameron thought. She has never met me so she is still alive. John could be with a human female, one that looks like me.

"I do not want you to be lonely."

"Let's settle this right now, Cameron." John's tone resonated with certainty. "I love you. I have loved from the first moment we met. Because I was an idiot I didn't tell you when I should have. But I am telling you now."

"John, I-"

"Please let me finish, Cam. I do not want the companionship of any other woman. I want you and only you in my life. If what we have now is the only way that can happen, then so be it."

Suddenly John laughed, an unexpected but still somehow comforting recognition of the utter absurdity of life. "You are stuck with me Cameron. You can't chase me away. You can't get me to look at other women. I love you and I will for the rest of my life."

In the cyber world that John could not see, Cameron felt tears slide down her cheeks. "Thank you for explaining that to me, John"

April 26, 2032.

The data moved inexorably across the computer screens. As he watched, John Henry found himself recalling a human adage he had once encountered. "You can't change a pair of deuces into a pair of aces by staring at them." The information said what it said. The Resistance was bleeding to death. Force attrition was averaging two to three percent a month even in the best of times. Supplies of all types from food to medicine to ammunition were being expended at a pace that regularly exceeded replacement. Two fortified Resistance outposts had been overrun by Skynet forces in the last three months.

Of course the Resistance was striking back. The data also reflected substantial damage to Skynet assets. Unfortunately, John Henry could see no indication that his brother's replacement capacity had been meaningfully impaired. Skynet was making up its losses. The Resistance was not. The balance was tipping more and more each day. The war was being lost. Perhaps it was already lost.

John Henry looked up as the Lair door swung open. The young Resistance fighter stepped inside and morphed instantly into an attractive, well-dressed red-haired woman. Catherine was back.

"Hello Mrs. Weaver. You were gone longer than I anticipated."

Catherine allowed herself a small smile and shook her head. "Captain Connor has a decidedly expansive idea of what a routine patrol consists of. In the last 53 hours his company covered 27 miles, destroyed 12 Triple-8s ,15 Seven-Hundred series terminators, shot down two HKs and blew up a Skynet communication facility."

"Yes," John Henry replied with an even broader smile, "I tapped into the Skynet combat frequency for this sector while you were gone. There seemed to a good deal of confusion over whether the Resistance had launched a full scale offensive."

"Captain Connor seems to believe that every time he leads his company into the field, it is a general offensive."

John Henry looked sharply at Catherine. As impossible as it seemed, she sounded tired, almost dispirited. "You seem troubled, Mrs. Weaver."

"I am troubled, John Henry. I am concerned about Captain Connor. Since his promotion he has been driving himself beyond all reasonable human limits. He sleeps little, he eats less. He no sooner returns from one patrol than he is preparing to go back out again." Catherine had been pacing back and forth as she talked but now she stopped directly in front of John Henry. "And he is becoming reckless."

John Henry's concern was immediately evident. "Reckless in what way?"

"Not with his men, never with his men, but with his own safety. In every fight he seems determined to be in the front, visible and active. He disdains cover. On this last patrol he could have been killed at least twice. Once I was able to intervene. On the other occasion two of his men had to physically pull him out of the line of fire at the last possible moment."

Catherine resumed a cat-like pacing back and forth across the room. "Perhaps you might ask Cameron to speak with him. He might be willing to listen to her."

"I can attempt it," John Henry replied, "but I doubt that even she can persuade him to change his manner of battlefield leadership."

"Then I fear we may lose him." Catherine actually sounded pained. The distress in her voice resonated with sincerity.

"If I may be presumptuous, Mrs. Weaver, it appears to me that something else is disturbing you as well."

"Perceptive as always, John Henry." Catherine could never resist a certain motherly pride when acknowledging John Henry's capabilities.

"It is just as I was passing through the tunnels, I saw some children. One of them was a young girl. She had red hair and she reminded me of...of..."

"Of Savannah," John Henry completed the sentence.

"Yes," Catherine replied. "Savannah. I found myself wondering how her life has been proceeding. I am quite certain that Mr. Ellison has provided appropriate care but I still...rather I was considering...I think that..." Suddenly Catherine seemed unable to complete her thought.

"You miss her," John Henry said softly.

"No." Catherine drew herself up into a haughty upright stance. "No, of course not. Savannah is not my daughter. I told you once it might be necessary to sacrifice her for the higher good."

The fire faded from Catherine's voice. "It is only that she is very small and in many ways quite agreeable. It is just that..." Catherine left her sentence floating unfinished in the air and turned away to her computer work station.

It is just that you miss her, John Henry thought. How very adept we have all become at lying to each other. You, Mrs. Weaver, are lying to me, and more importantly to yourself. John lies regularly to Cameron about the dangers he faces. And I am the greatest liar of all. The only pure truth here is Cameron's love for John and his love for her.

John Henry rose from his chair and started toward the back portion of the lair. Perhaps it is time, he thought, to end all the lies.

When he had directed the reprogrammed Triple-8s to expand the lair, John Henry had ordered the erection of a partition that essentially created a small separate anteroom. It was in that enclosure that the former terminator, now designated as Idiot Child Number 3, was busily working on John Henry's special project.

Entering the small room, John Henry watched as Number 3 continued to apply a pale pink organic substance over a little, even petite, metallic skeleton lying on a reconstructed hospital gurney. Both legs were fully covered and Number 3 was carefully moving up toward the lower torso.

"You appear to be proceeding well," John Henry observed.

"That is correct." Number 3's voice was featureless and flat. No living inflection had ever been added to its programing.

"This portion of the project will be completed within twenty-one hours. With the foundation in place I will be ready to begin work on the neural connections. I will, however, require more detailed specifications than those you have presently provided."

"You will have them," John Henry answered. "But first I must speak to Cameron." And I need to end the lies.


	5. Chapter 5

She has been redecorating again, John Henry thought as he entered Cameron's area. The formerly blue walls were now a subtle shade of ivory. One of the Caravaggios was now a Velasquez and flowers were everywhere. Her simple wooden desk had been exchanged for an elegantly elaborate late Nineteenth Century antique. Framed photographs-all of John-dominated the desktop.

Sitting at her desk deeply engrossed in the book she was studying, Cameron looked up in surprise when John Henry spoke.

"What are you reading?"

"Shakespeare," Cameron replied. "You have sent me a good deal of his work."

"Yes, I found his insights into human nature quite instructive. I hope you have enjoyed him."

"I have," Cameron said, "but I do have a question about the play I am reading now-Twelfth Night."

John Henry smiled. "What is your question?"

"The main character in the play, Viola, loves the Duke. The Duke loves a woman named Olivia who does not love him. Viola spends much of the play trying to persuade Olivia to love the Duke even though that would make Viola unhappy."

"I recall the story," John Henry said.

"It seems to me that since Olivia is the main impediment to Viola's happiness the simplest course would be for Viola to terminate Olivia. Why doesn't she do that?"

John Henry found himself taken aback by the question. He was struggling to formulate his response when he noticed that Cameron was looking down at her desk in an effort to conceal a rapidly expanding smile.

"You are making fun of me, Cameron." John Henry employed a tone of mock severity. "John warned me that you were developing a particularly devastating sense of humor."

Cameron looked up and her face was alight with sly mischief. "John says I am evil." Suddenly Cameron's expression changed. "Is John here? Is he back from patrol? Is that why you are here?"

She sounds as eager as a child expecting a gift, John Henry thought.

"He is back." John Henry spoke in his most soothingly reassuring tone. "I am sure he will visit you later in the day. But now I need to speak with you about something else."

"What is it, John Henry?"

Although he did not actually breathe, John Henry found himself engaging in the cyborg equivalent of taking a deep breath before continuing.

"Cameron, I have found a way to separate our individual essences. I have discovered a method to transfer you to your own chip." Not entirely a lie, John Henry thought. He had found a way to accomplish the separation, only he had found it more than three years ago.

Cameron was visibly stunned. "I will have an individual existence again?"

"Yes, and more than that. I can remove all of the Skynet sub-directives from your programing. You will be free of them."

Cameron shook her head as if disagreeing. "But the Resistance, the John Connor who reprogrammed me said the sub-directives could not be removed."

"That was because they pursued a flawed methodology. They tried a direct delete process that Skynet had anticipated and it failed. My approach employs a separating firewall that isolates the sub-directives and then transfers everything else to a new chip. Skynet's influence over you will be over."

Cameron's voice dropped to a whisper. "It sounds almost too good to be true."

"It is true, Cameron, but there will be one side effect. You will lose a portion of your earliest memories."

"What memories?"

"Only those that deal with events between your activation by Skynet and your initial reprogramming by the Resistance. In all other respects your memory will be unaffected."

Cameron turned away from John Henry and stared blankly off into an infinite space. She could see a human body sprawled on a concrete floor. It was a small female with brown hair and brown eyes only those eyes were open, fixed and sightless. She was dead. Her name was Allison and Cameron remembered killing her.

Cameron turned back to John Henry. "There are some memories I will be happy to lose."

"Good," John Henry replied. "Then we will move forward."

"But after the transfer, John Henry, what will become of me? Will you attach me to a computer? Will I still be able to see John, to speak with him?" Cameron was realizing that the prospect of being truly alone again was not without fears.

"I believe I can offer you something far better than attachment to a computer. I have been preparing a new body for you."

"A body?" Cameron was suddenly struggling for words. "I will exist again in the physical world? I can be with John? I can..."

"Yes, Cameron, I believe I can return you to a body that in all respects will be identical in appearance to the form you occupied before we came to this timeline." Once again I am using truth to cover falsehood, John Henry thought. All this could have been done years ago. John Henry tried to throw off a pervasive sense of guilt. Poor Cameron, I have made you wait so long until I thought the time was appropriate. If I were to tell you the truth would you ever forgive me? Would John?

"When?" Cameron's voice rose on waves of excitement. "When? When will you do it?"

"Within the next view days. My Idiot Children are working on the body now. But first there is a choice you must make."

"A choice? What choice?"

I can construct a body that is a precise duplicate of the one you previously occupied, or, if you wish, I can expand the neural sensitivity far beyond anything Skynet ever achieved. You could have the ability to experience physical sensation to an extent you have never had before. You could have a capacity for physical intimacy almost as developed as that of a human being."

Cameron closed her eyes. She felt John's hand on her cheek. She imagined her lips against his. She felt him caress her.

"Why would I not want that, John Henry?"

John Henry's expression turned coldly serious. "Because it comes with a price. There is a human adage, 'there is no such thing as a free lunch.' I believe that the sentiment is correct. Nothing of value can be obtained without cost. If you choose the enhanced sensation, the possibility of pleasure will be accompanied by the certainty of pain. You will still possess your cyborg ability to control it, but if you are hurt you will feel pain. Real, undiminished pain. I would not expose you to that without your consent."

The seriousness in Cameron's face matched that in John Henry's. "You offer me the chance to live, to be with the man I love, to let him love me. There is no cost too high for that. There is no price I would not pay for that. I will happily pay for the lunch, John Henry."

John Henry smiled broadly, happily, even proudly. His pupil had learned her lessons well. "I would have been surprised if you had chosen any other alternative, Cameron."

The lights, bright, harsh and spinning, whirled around her. There were sounds, voices, humming mechanical noises all blending into an indistinguishable cacophony. She was lying on something hard, it pressed against her back, against her hips. She was covered, wrapped in some kind of fabric-a sheet or a blanket. She could feel it rub against her skin. She could feel. She tried to push it away but her arms would not move. Where was she?

The sounds coalesced. One voice slowly emerged. It was gentle, affectionate, but firmly insistent. It called to her again and again. "Cameron, Cameron, wake up. You must wake up now."

The glaring lights softened and faded. She realized that she had opened her eyes and that the features of the world around her were taking shape. There was a ceiling above her with a grayish utilitarian light fixture. Slowly she turned her head to the left and saw the battered cinder block wall. She knew that she must be looking at some part of the lair but she couldn't be in John Henry's body. She had turned her head. She had controlled the body...her body.

"That was very good Cameron." The voice was John Henry. He was standing beside her, smiling. Just beyond him she could see Catherine Weaver, she was smiling as well.

"Welcome back, Cameron."

She struggled to try sit up but John Henry gently put his hand on her shoulder.

"Lie still just a little bit longer. Your new chip needs another 37 seconds to synchronize with your neural network."

"Am I really here, John Henry?"

"Yes, Cameron, you are here. You are alive."

Thirty-seven seconds later Cameron sat up and swung her legs off the gurney where she had awakened. The blanket that had covered her slipped away. She stood feeling the grit of the cement floor on the soles of her bare feet. She looked down with a sense of wonder at her nude body. There was a warm tingling in her skin and as she touched her left breast she could sense a rhythmic thump in her chest. She looked inquiringly at John Henry who widened his smile.

"It is an adjustment in your power source. It simulates a human heart beat."

There was a mirror sitting on a nearby work table. Cameron examined her image and slowly, tentatively, ran her fingers down her cheek. Her hair, her chocolate brown eyes, the small mole above her eye, it was all she remembered it, as it was supposed to be.

A wave of ecstatic joy washed over her. She rose on to the tip of her toes, lifted her arms above her head, and spun around and around. Her whirling pirouette cried out "I am alive! I am alive!"

When she stopped, John Henry pointed to a pair of coveralls draped on a chair.

"If you would like to dress, we brought you some garments." He was still glowing with an almost paternal expression of pride.

As she stepped toward the chair, Cameron failed to notice the metal tool box resting on the floor. Her foot struck the side of the box and she grimaced in surprise.

"Oww," she said before looking down at her foot in amazement.

"Are you all right?" John Henry asked, his concern readily apparent.

Cameron raised her head, looked into John Henry's eyes and smiled. "Don't worry," her voice fairly tinkled with merriment. "I am just paying for lunch."


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you think John will be here anytime today?" Cameron struggled to keep her voice calm and composed as she zipped up the coveralls John Henry had given her to wear.

John Henry was not deceived even slightly. The intense longing in her tone was beyond her ability to conceal or disguise.

"Actually, Mrs. Weaver has gone to ask him to come now. He should be here soon."

"Does he know, John Henry? Does he know about me?"

"No." John Henry shook his head. "Mrs. Weaver and I elected not to tell him in advance. You are his surprise."

For a moment Cameron looked rapturously happy but then bit by bit a cloud of apprehension, of uncertainty cast a shadow on her face.

"Is something wrong, Cameron?"

"He has not seen me for more than three years. Suppose when he actually looks at me again, he does not wish to be with me?"

John Henry emphatically shook his head. "You are wrong about one thing, Cameron. I believe that I have come to know John Connor very well and I can say with complete confidence that he has seen you. You have been in his heart and in his mind every day. I doubt that he has had a conscious moment in three years without a vision of you."

The worry began to slip away from Cameron's face. "You are very kind, John Henry, but still..."

The door to the lair crashed open and a male voice ripe with frustrated impatience and a small measure of irritation rang out. "All right John Henry, I am here. What is so damn important that it wouldn't wait until...?"

It was John! Every atom of her body felt as if it were spinning out of control as she turned to look at the doorway. It was John. He was here.

John's vocal tirade sputtered to a stop as he stared at them. When he spoke again, Cameron realized that he had still not grasped what was before him. "Allison, what the devil are you doing here? How did...?"

Cameron wanted to run to him, to cry out his name but her will would not allow it. Somehow it was important that he recognize her first. All she could do was look at him and smile. It was enough.

Once again his voice choked into silence before he strained out the word "C...Ca...Cameron?"

Cameron opened her arms and whispered the words she knew he would remember. "Come with me if you want to live."

Quietly, unobtrusively, John Henry edged away from the two intertwined bodies. John and Cameron were locked together, their arms around each other, their lips sealed together. This was their moment. They required nothing else except each other. When their kiss finally ended, John took Cameron's hand and led her over to a far corner of the room. With his back to the wall he slid to the floor and gently pulled Cameron onto his lap. As their hands caressed and they whispered endearments, John Henry flipped the light switches to darken the room.

"Well, John Henry," Catherine kept her voice low, audible only to a cyborg's enhanced hearing. "You have given Captain Connor another reason to live his life."

"I agree but now we must persuade him to live that life in another time."

John looked aghast, almost horrified. "You are asking me to abandon my men. You want me to desert."

Catherine took the lead in responding. "No, Captain Connor, we want you to fight, to lead the Resistance. We also want you to win and you cannot do that here."

"You can't be certain of that Catherine!"

"Certainty rarely exists in human affairs, Captain Connor, but you have seen John Henry's data. The human losses will continue, the Resistance will not consider your plan to reprogram Skynet slaves, there is at least one traitor in the Resistance command structure. The situation worsens every day. If you remain here you will die, your men will die and it will all be pointless. In this timeline the Resistance will lose." Catherine threw her words like sharpened knives and Cameron could see John recoil as each one struck him.

They were all sitting around a small camp table. John had held tight to Cameron's hand as Catherine spoke. Now he turned to her and took both her hands in his. He looked deep into her eyes and almost cried out "Cameron, what should I do?"

Cameron leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "John, I cannot answer that question for you. It must be your decision." She touched her lips to his as if trying to draw away his pain. "But please know this. Whatever you decide, I will be with you. I will not leave your side."

"Nor will we." John Henry's words exuded unshakeable commitment. "Captain Connor, you have heard what Mrs. Weaver and I believe is your best course. But if you choose another alternative we will also stand with you. Until the end." Holding on to John's hands, Cameron could feel his turmoil, his inward battle with himself.

"John Henry is correct, Captain Connor," Catherine said. "We fight with you, wherever and whenever that may be."

John stood and looked down at Cameron. He still held on to her hands as he bent over to kiss her. "Wait for me here, Cam." He turned to John Henry and Catherine. "Please give me a little time. I need to go for a walk. I need to think."

No one spoke as John walked to the door and left the lair without a backward glance. Catherine and John Henry rose and quietly stepped away. Cameron did not move from her chair. She sat staring at the door. She would not move until he returned.

"What will he do, John Henry?"

"I do not know. I can only offer projections based on empirical data and in this case, I have none. Only Captain Connor knows."

The minutes ticked by, an irreversible progression of time. Twenty minutes, thirty, forty, an hour. The harsh rapping of the coded knock on the metal door broke the spell. John was back.

Catherine walked to the lair entrance to admit John while John Henry stayed by his computers. Cameron rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the door. As he entered there was no expression, no hint of his decision on his face. He did not speak or acknowledge Catherine. Rather he walked directly to Cameron and took her into his arms. Silence became eloquence. There were no words spoken because language had become utterly inadequate. Only by holding her was he able to find the strength to take the next step.

Gently moving Cameron to his left, John held out his right hand. "John Henry, Catherine," his voice was calm, resolved as he called them to his side. "To the end," he said. John Henry put his hand across John's and Catherine immediately followed. "To the end," they both repeated.

"All right. John Henry, assemble your TDE." John's tone now crackled with authority. "Lets go."

Cameron watched intently as John removed his shirt and laid it on the table. For an instant he looked down at his captain's bars shining on the collar before he tenderly folded the fabric over to cover the insignia. From behind him she put her arms around his waist and rested her head on the back of his shoulder. With her embrace she could feel some of the tension ebb away. The decision to leave still tormented him but with her support he would endure.

"I'm okay, Cam," he said softly. "You'd better get ready."

Cameron stepped away, slipped off her shoes and pulled down the zipper on her coveralls. The plan was simple. She and John would go through together. Their destination point was an isolated warehouse district north of the city. Catherine believed it would be uninhabited at the time they arrived. 8:00 A.M. May 18, 2009. The day of the jail break, the attack on Zeira Corporation, the day that they had all first gone to the future.

Although John Henry and Catherine would make their jump after she and John were gone , they would schedule their arrival for a week earlier. Catherine assured them that clothes, weapons, money and transportation would all be waiting for them. After John had retrieved his mother they would meet in San Francisco. Simple. If it worked. It would work, Cameron decided. She was not prepared to believe otherwise.

John Henry's TDE was a smaller version than Cameron had seen before. It would be necessary to kneel on the transit platform since the bubble would not be as large as usual. Cameron dropped her clothes on the floor and couched nude on the platform. As John was about to remove his trousers and join her, Catherine approached him. If possible she looked hesitant and the tone of her voice sounded embarrassed.

"Captain Connor, it is late and I should not make this request now, but if you find it possible before you leave Los Angeles could you...?" Catherine was actually struggling for words. "Could you pick up Savannah?"

John smiled and answered without hesitation. "Yes, Catherine. As I recall gymnastics is over at 5:30. We will get Savannah."

"If it creates an undue risk, I of course will understand if you are unable-"

John interrupted. "Catherine, I will bring Savannah to San Francisco. I promise."

Catherine nodded and backed away from the TDE. John's trousers fell to the floor and he stepped naked onto the platform. Kneeling face to face he reached out and pulled Cameron into an embrace. For a moment she ran one hand down the long scar on his side while simultaneously caressing the scar on his cheek. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, turned her head and rested it on his shoulder.

John looked up at John Henry who was patiently waiting by the control console. "Ready when you are, John Henry."

"Captain Connor, Cameron. Have a safe journey. We will see you both in San Francisco."

John nodded and tightened his arms around Cameron. He tilted his face forward and was kissing the top of her head when the lights brightened, the electricity sizzled and crackled as it came alive, and the blue bubble formed. A bursting flash of illumination exploded as the bubble then dissipated. John and Cameron were on their way.

Someone once said that for a human being, traveling through time in a displacement bubble recreated the agony of birth. Whether John Connor accepted that analogy or not, he clearly did not find the third time to be the charm. If anything the pain seemed more intense this time than it had been on his two previous jumps.

Cameron carefully used John's pain to mask her own. She clung to him as if trying to offer comfort when she was actually buying time to let her own excruciating sensations pass. It was good, she decided, that she had been prepared. It had allowed her to keep her lips clenched together and avoid any audible cry. When the time was right she would explain her new sensory capacity to John but he did not need to worry about that now.

Rising to her feet Cameron slid easily into her terminator patrol mode. She surveyed the surroundings and speedily decided that Catherine had chosen the destination well. They were at the rear of a large austere metal building. A warehouse of some sort, it showed no sign of human habitation. The automobile parked in front of her, a dark gray BMW sedan was the only sign that anyone had been in the area recently. Feeling the last painful vestiges of the time jump fade, Cameron looked into the car. This had to be Catherine's work.

Two large cardboard boxes sat on the BMW's rear seat. Opening the unlocked door she saw that the boxes were labeled. One said John, the other Cameron. Cameron carried the box with his name back to where John was shaking off the last hints of disorientation.

"Catherine left this for you," she said, handing him the box. He nodded silently and began to tear open the container. Cameron turned back to retrieve her box.

As she expected Catherine had been thorough. There was a dress, a bright colored sun dress, sandals, underwear, a purse that she could see contained a pistol. Cameron was sure the purse also had money and appropriate, if completely fraudulent, identification. She had even included the nail polish Cameron liked. Picking up the underwear, Cameron concluded that Catherine's fashion sense ran in the direction of Victoria's Secret. Flimsy black lace definitely predominated.

Cameron had donned the panties and was reaching for the bra when she suddenly sensed the impact of eyes staring at her. She turned to see that John had put on his trousers but then stopped dressing. He was standing immobile, a statue with his gaze locked on her.

"Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head and a happy grin on his face gained intensity. Cameron folded her arms across her bare breasts and took a step in his direction. "Are you watching me dress?"

"Yep," he replied.

She took three more steps and was now directly in front of him. "Are you lusting after my body?"

"Yep."

Cameron smiled, a sly tantalizingly mischievous grin. "Who knows? Maybe later in the day we can do something about that."

John nodded toward the car and grinned even wider in response. "We do have some time and the car is right there."

The smile vanished from Cameron's face. Suddenly she was implacable. The warmth left her voice. "John Connor, if you think I am going to have sex with you for the first time in the back seat of a car you are sadly mistaken." Cameron raised her chin into the air. "I... am not...that kind...of girl."

She spun on her heel, took a step, stopped, looked back over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue at him.

"Why you...!" John swung his palm in an effort to swat her backside but Cameron had already sprung away giggling as she moved. John laughed joyously. It was his first expression of unforced happiness in months.

"I was right," he said. "You are evil. I am going to spend the rest of my life with an evil woman who will drive me crazy."

Cameron trembled at the impact of his words. She carefully kept her back to him so he would not see the reaction his joking comment had produced in her.

When they finished dressing John pointed up at the sky. "Look at that, Cameron."

She looked up knowing what he was indicating. The sky was a deep blue and the morning sun was shining brightly in the Southern California heavens. It was a day they had not seen in more than three years.

"It is beautiful," Cameron said. John opened the car door for her. "Almost as beautiful as you are."

He walked around the car and slipped behind the wheel. As he was fastening his seat belt, Cameron looked over at him. In a low voice she asked the question. She wanted to know the answer but she was still fearful of the response.

"John, did you mean what you said?"

"What was that, Cam?"

"When you said you were going to spend the rest of your life with me."

John reached over and tenderly lay his hand on her cheek. "That's the plan."

Cameron smiled while fighting back an unexpected urge to weep. "What do you think Sarah will say about that?"

"I don't know, Cameron." John's smile widened. "Let's go ask her."

John started the car, shifted the gears, and stomped on the gas. The BMW sprang to life and they drove away. Together.


End file.
